


hold your devil by his spoke

by harsh_tap



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Anal Sex, Blood, Hair-pulling, M/M, Rough Sex, Smut, idk man just a weird ditty for my lapsed catholics out there, uh too much mental world building for some smut that did not need it, wonky POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 03:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19076275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harsh_tap/pseuds/harsh_tap
Summary: “If you keep waking me up like that I’m gonna have to kill you.” Pat pries his eyes open to see Brian smirking, his head practically vibrating against the pillow from the effort to suppress a giggle.The little shithead composes himself enough to quip, “Babe, we’ve been over this, you know I’d kill you first.”aka Brian and Pat are an angel and demon who see the death of god as an opportunity to take it to funky town





	hold your devil by his spoke

**Author's Note:**

> hi i haven't written fic since i was like a teen but sometimes you just gotta remove yourself from real life for a minute, you know? i am a terrible fiction writer (and an extremely terrible smut writer) but it's 3am and why not put this out there. 
> 
> also it's important to me that you know they are both switches but this is where this particular path led me lol.
> 
> as always this is entirely fictional and if you have anything to do with real people associated with the names of these characters please kindly see yourself to the door. (honestly this is so far removed from said people i could've just swapped out the names but let me Project onto these Templates)

Pat wakes up to the feeling of ocean air gently blowing across his face. If he didn’t know any better, he might think he’d gone on a bender and passed out on a random beach...again. 

“If you keep waking me up like that I’m gonna have to kill you.” He pries his eyes open to see Brian smirking, his head practically vibrating against the pillow from the effort to suppress a giggle. 

The little shithead composes himself enough to quip, “Babe, we’ve been over this, you know I’d kill you first.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Pat smiles. His eyes, now wide open, flashing the slightest tint of crimson before he’s suddenly gone. Brian rolls onto his back and shouts at the ceiling, “I hate it when you do that!” He hears Pat laughing from the bathroom. 

At first, they had shared worries about how this whole thing between them would play out, given enough time. It’s hard enough for humans to maintain relationships amid their petty conflicts, only god could know how an angel and demon would manage to survive each other. Of course, god _would have_ known, if they were still around. Their absence meant it was anyone’s guess whether Pat and Brian’s fling would continue to fly high or dive bomb catastrophically. But the fact that god had died in the Conflict also meant that there was arguably less reason for tension between the Glorious and the Fallen. 

In spite of what felt like a hundred late night conversations, with heavy concerns being hashed out over heavier chinese food and angelically enhanced wine, it turned out that sleeping in the enemy’s sheets is a lot more comfortable than either of them had been led to believe. Apparently it’s easier to slip into companionship, or even love, without an ever-watchful authority hell- (or heaven) bent on denying it. And even without the actual threat of eternal punishment, the situation still felt sinfully sexy. 

Brian is staring up at the ceiling, humming to himself while he basks in the morning sunlight peeking through the window, when Pat walks in and plops himself back into the space he evaporated from minutes before. Pat rolls his eyes, but there’s no tangible malice behind it. “Are you still singing old hymns?”

Brian shifts to his side. “You have to admit they’re catchy. Plus, you know, a lot of them are about the badassery of angels, which is pretty cool.”

“Okay hotshot, it’s not like you were an arcangel cruising the skies with fancy rainbow wings.”

Brian lets out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, alright. Yeah, Michael and his broskis were kinda suck-ups, but the songs still slap.”

Pat laughs. “Guess it’s harder to jam along when someone is singing about banishing you hither and thither.”

Brian inches closer to Pat’s face, cracks a smile. “You know I’d never banish you too hard, darling o’ mine.”

“Well thank Lucy for small favors.” Pat closes the gap, presses his mouth to Brian’s. They’ve played this game before, the one they woke up playing. Teasing threats, tiny miracles, devil magic. Joking pretences of mutual bloodshed are a welcome start to the day when you’re in bed with someone who’s been across the battlefield for a millenia. Even humans know the simple pleasure of a taboo. 

In the blink of an eye Pat is on top, straddling Brian’s hips and letting his eyes fill with their deepest red. His face, fondly smiling only a second ago, is now menacingly focused, staring down with a look that leaves little room for interpretation. He grips Brian’s shoulders, presses them into the bed.

Brian, his touch feather-light, slowly runs his hand up Pat’s arm, weaving through until his fingers are gently spread across Pat’s neck. Pat hums and leans into the touch, before gasping as it starts to burn. 

It’s Brian’s turn to be wicked now, as he tightens his fingers to grip Pat’s throat and channels his energies into and through his palm, scorching his devious lover’s skin. 

Between gasps, Pat grits out, “So we’re ... playing ... dirty then?”

Brian pulls sharply at Pat’s neck so he can look straight into his eyes, starts to whisper, “With you it’s always dirt-”

Before he can finish responding, he feels needles digging into his own neck. Quicker than lightning, Pat has drawn out his old talons and pressed them over Brian’s jugular, just barely starting to nick his skin. A stalemate. The two hold their shared gaze as smiles creep across both of their faces. Today is looking full of potential. 

They spend half a second waiting to see who will make the next move before Brian blinks and he’s in the desert. Hot sand shifts under his back while he darts his eyes across an arid landscape that stretches for miles. He drops the hand that was holding Pat’s neck and closes his eyes. He’s no fool. Pat may be clever with his illusions, but this isn’t Brian’s first rodeo. He focuses, takes in a breath, and exhales as he thrusts his body upward.

He opens his eyes and sees Pat again, smirking within the walls of his bedroom now that the sensory trickery has been dropped. They’re both on their knees on the bed, and Brian glances down to see the hand shaped burn his holy fire left on Pat’s neck.

Brian glares as he wipes at the trail of blood on his own neck and mumbles, “Cheap.”

Pat grabs Brian’s hand, pulls it up to his mouth and drags his tongue across the smeared blood on his fingers. “Don’t act like you’re above parlor tricks, sweetness.”

Brian scoffs before he hooks his thumb in Pat’s mouth, pulls at his cheek to guide him forcefully back down to the bed. He hovers over the man, his personal demon, hell-fire embodied, and watches as drops of blood fall from the wounds on his neck. They drip onto Pat’s face in tiny splatters, Pat opening his mouth and darting his tongue out, running it over his red-stained lips obscenely. 

With that, Brian drops the act, too hungry to hold back the desire to slam his mouth into Pat’s, to taste the hot iron on his tongue. He weaves his fingers into Pat’s hair, tugging at the roots with enough force that would make any mortal man squeal as they bite at each other’s lips, let their teeth clash against each other. Pat wraps his arms around Brian, drawing angry slashes down his back that prickle with fresh blood. 

They take turns letting out moans that morph into yells, into screams, trading pleasure and pain like an old currency. Eventually Pat pries his face away from Brian’s, pushes him onto his stomach so he can lick along the fresh marks on his back. “I have to fuck you.” 

Brian squirms and nods his head frantically. He reaches back for Pat’s hand, yanks it up to his mouth so he can suck on his fingers, drooling over them like he’s a starved man seeing food for the first time in months. Pat pulls his hand back, feels the fluid thicken as he spreads Brian’s legs and starts pressing toward his hole. 

(He still can’t help but smile when he remembers his incredulousness the first time they fucked. “You can make your spit work like lube?” 

“I’m an angel, you ass, of course I can.”)

It doesn’t take long for Brian to open up around his fingers; it’s not like the body he inhabits actually needs that much tender care. But it gives Pat more time to torture him, to lean over his long body and tell him he should make him wait, all while Brian keens impatiently. “You know, it’s only fair that you should admit I would’ve won this fight before I put my dick in you. Can’t let you have the pleasure of a good fuck _and_ the pleasure of thinking you won the battle.”

Brian lets out a laugh, but the sound is weakened by his breathiness. “You know I’ve kicked your ass before and I can do again, just fuck me already.”

Pat hums in mock thought, “I dunno Bri, maybe I should just stop if you won’t cede defeat.” He shoves his fingers deeper, drawing a particularly desperate sound from Brian, before starting to pull them out almost entirely.

Brian fumbles, weighing his pride against his utter need to be filled up by the monster who knows just how to rile him. Finally he gasps out, “Fine, fine, you would’ve won this one. You’re strong and powerful and conniving and I’d never stand a chance _now willyoupleasefuckme_.” 

Pat knows better than to try for a more convincing depiction of defeat. He knows they’re realistically a fair match against each other, and they’ve tousled enough to prove it, but he also knows that this is part of it, for both of them. Playing at domination, pitting their abilities against each other. After eons of fighting with dire stakes on the line, it’s an immense turn-on to take, and to surrender. 

He pulls Brian’s hips up off the bed and drives himself into him with no other warning, slamming his hips into Brian’s ass mercilessly. Brian exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the dawn of time, “Fuck, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Fucking Brian, for the first time or the five hundredth time, feels like nothing Pat’s felt in centuries. Every time he drives in, every time he folds himself over the quaking body beneath him, he feels like he’s breaching the surface of the ocean, like he got caught in a storm and had surrendered to drowning and suddenly he’s being pulled up and gasping in air he was sure he’d never taste again. 

Brian reaches down and starts feverishly tugging at himself as Pat bites at the nape of his neck, sucks punishing bruises above the bloodied marks around his spine. He leans in to whisper, “That’s it. You gonna come on my cock again? What would god think, if they could see how quickly you always give in?”

He sees it before he feels it. When Brian is so close to coming, his skin starts to gently glow, his body too overcome with sensation to hide what it normally keeps contained. Brian is gasping, curling his free hand into the sheets, the one on his dick working so quickly he shakes with it. Pat is wrapped tight around him, covering him, mouthing over his hot skin, waiting to be washed in the warmth of twenty sunrises. 

Brian yells as he comes, but Pat can barely notice it over the light that ripples out of him and through the room. Pat always comes just as Brian does, the relief and heat washing out of Brian and through every part of both of them. It’s everything and it’s too much and it’s just enough. It feels like every good thing that has ever happened in heaven and earth, like suddenly the universe shrinks down to the size of Pat’s room and every sweet sensation any creature has ever felt is theirs for an instant. Pat blacked out the first time they came together. Now he just weeps.

Pat is leaning his head against the wall, an arm slung around Brian’s shoulders. He starts feeling calm blooming in his stomach, spreading through his body. Brian can radiate emotions out into other people, a party trick he pulls out occasionally when friends are getting too heated over the latest discourse, a steady IV drip of contentment that flows through the room. Naturally, Pat isn’t quite as sensitive to these effects, but in moments like this where it’s just the two of them, coming down from a rough fuck and already glowing in the safety of closeness, it feels like the final shot at last call. He drinks it in, sighs as he burrows his nose into Brian’s hair. 

“Hey,” Brian whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I love you, you asshole.”

Pat snorts against Brian’s head. “Yeah, I guess I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you've made it this far i congratulate you. feel free to leave a comment if you did not find this totally awful, or even if you did, it's your life man.


End file.
